


Living a Nightmare

by kiwikiwikiwikiwi



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Racism, Violence, Xaela, and the WoL is an aura, but i mean, ishgard, its Ishgard, really really racist really, what did you think would happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 14:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15439359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwikiwikiwikiwi/pseuds/kiwikiwikiwikiwi
Summary: The Warrior of Light regularly tackles foes ten times her size. But what happens when her new quarry are everyday people and she can't fight back?





	Living a Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> I RETURN FROM THE ENDLESS ABYSS  
> tbh though no one missed me XD  
> Song Inspiration: Time of Dying by Three Days Grace

**Living a Nightmare**

_**“On the ground I lay. Motionless in pain.”** _

The day had ended in victory for Ishgard, the Steps of Faith were once more secure and the dragon Vishap had been vanquished. Jesi had been injured when a horde of underlings targeted her once the dragons realized who was keeping the ground forces in the fight. They’d shredded her clothing and flesh down her back before she managed to ward them off and defeat them with the help of some nearby infantry. But Vishap still lumbered forwards and she had no time to tend to her wounds, as others required her assistance. So, she had stood, blood streaming with the claw marks down her back and abdomen.

Even after the assault ended Jesi had no time for her aching and clotting wounds, for even though the city was safe, damage had been done and there were injured to tend to. She knelt by one such person now, an elderly elezen, who took in her draconic features with silent shock but submitted to the ministrations. Soft green healing magicks spilled from her staff and enveloped the man and Jesi felt the aether drain more steeply as she was nearing the end of her reserves.

She barely noticed the crowd growing and surrounding her until the sharp shards of some drunkard’s latest purchase imbedded in her back, sending a fresh wave of pain radiating from the claw marks to mingle with the additional incision. The clotted over wounds reopened, sending a fresh stream of blood down her back as she fell forward onto her hands.

“Whaddaya think ya doin’ wyvern spawn?” The green magicks faded away as Jesi raised her eyes from her prone position to meet the gaze of her attacker. “Yeah, we know your kind, even your stolen flesh can’t hide your cursed blood.” The crowd began to murmur in agreement as eyes flickered to Jesi’s horns and tail.

This wasn’t the only time something of this nature had occurred. Ever since she had arrived in Ishgard people had refused to meet her gaze, stared when they thought she wouldn’t notice and whisper behind her back. To them it didn’t matter that she was the Warrior of Light, Slayer of Primals. It seemed that those feelings of fear, distrust and pain since the dravanian horde had magnified, driving those around her to lash out at the perceived threat. As she held the first attacker’s stare three more young elezen men dashed forward, two dragging the now recovered elder away from her and the third yanking her staff off the ground and bringing it down forcefully over his knee, snapping it clean in two.

At the abrupt sound, Jesi’s head spun around in time to see the pieces clatter to the cobblestones, feeling her connection to magicks sever like a punch to the gut. Rage and helplessness filled her, for as much as she ached to take up arms to defend herself, she knew that it would only serve to aggravate the situation further. She couldn’t even heal herself with her low aether reserves and no conduit for her power.

More people spilled into the square to join the crowd, the jeering drawing them from their drunken reveries. They pressed in all around Jesi, pinning her in the center. A mushy fruit hit her cheek, spoilt juices oozing down the side of her face and rotten smell piercing her nose. More and more globs of rotten food were thrown in her direction, matting her hair and soaking her body and clothes. As the drunk among the crowd finished their drinks while enjoying the entertainment they added their liquor stained bottles to the barrage. Jesi let out quiet sobs as more glass embedded in her spine and she curled further in, minimizing what the angry mob could hit.

More men lurched forward, realizing that her position was limiting the entertainment for the rest of them. Between them they roughly hoisted Jesi up, dangling her between them like a rag doll. Someone from the crowd stepped up and before she could get a look at his face he swung heavily at her stomach with his knee, winding her and forcing blood up into Jesi’s mouth which she promptly spat out, letting it pool with the pulp from the rotten food on the ground. The rest of the crowd surged forward after the initial hit, desperate to let out their fears and anger from surviving the horde.

**_“Wake me up, I'm living a nightmare”_ **

Over and over they lashed into her, feet and knees and fists and palms; each leaving their mark on her bruised and bloody body. Jesi began to enter a daze, the pain fading away to a constant dull throb and her vision blurring and blackening at the edges. She knew she had to stay awake, to outlast and crawl back to safety before the Scions saw what had become of their beloved Warrior. The thuds began to slow, her lack of reaction save for the constant drips of blood from her parted mouth no longer providing engagement for the masses.

“She’s done for, lets go before the high houses get ‘ere.” Jesi felt her body fall, slumping in a heap as she was unceremoniously dumped on the cobblestones.

Craning her head slightly from her prone position, Jesi took in the blooming storm clouds surrounding Ishgard from horizon to horizon, letting the cool patches of falling snow soothe her battered skin. She breathed deeply, trying to gather the strength to limp away from the square. She tried to force herself to kneel, willing her hands to push her body up. All she got in return were fresh waves of pain winding up to her shoulders in protest. Gritting her teeth, baring her fangs, she tried again. And again. But to no avail. Exhaling sharply and ignoring the kick of pain in her ribs Jesi gave up, resting her cheek on the cool ground once again. The chill was beginning to bite her bones now, no longer soothing her bruises. The effort she had expended on attempting to move began to take its toll, outweighing her determination to keep her eyes open. Against her will they folded close, with Jesi only being able to faintly see through her lashes.

A growing thudding noise stirred her slightly from injured reverie. Jesi forced open her eyes as far as she could in time to see Alphinaud skid slightly on the now slippery ground as he came to a stop. Craning her neck slightly Jesi could see the shock and horror on his face as he took in the scene: her, beaten within an inch of her life by man and dragon alike, her weapon, snapped in pieces nearby and both her and staff lying in a pile of broken glass, blood and rotten food. Alphinaud sank to his knees beside her, not caring about the grime already collecting on his clothes, as his hands hovered over Jesi’s back; still not quite sure what to do with himself.

“A-Alphy…” Jesi manage to groan, which shook him from his terror and he quickly grabbed out his grimoire. Soft green light enveloped her and the warm healing magick began pulsing softly through her veins, alleviating some of the pain. Alphinaud already knew that it wouldn’t be enough however, she would need the ministrations of a proper chirugeon, but he could stabilize her for the time being. Slipping his grimoire away, Alphinaud began to rise back to his feet. He was loathe to do so but was painfully aware he could not move Jesi by himself.

“Do not fret my friend, I will return with help.” Then, braid whipping in the brisk wind, the boy was off. Jesi’s eyes traced his retreating form, but as the snowy haze of either the air or her vision hid him from sight she felt her lids slowly closing again. 

She barely registered the steady sway when the scions carried her away.


End file.
